


The Ambuscade Affair

by jkkitty



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 18:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1398064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkkitty/pseuds/jkkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does a florescent pink katydid have to do with the missing CEA? Can UNCLE figure it out in time to save Napoleon? Illya, Mark, and Jo are attempting to save their friend, but first they need to find where Thrush is keeping him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ambuscade Affair

She laid down the guitar that she had been strumming to help pass the time letting Napoleon’s subconscious know she was there when as her brother came into the room, offering her his shoulder. He held her tight as she leaned into him.

They looked at their pale friend with all the tubes running in and out of him knowing that only the best of luck would allow him to live. His broken and injured body fighting the best that it could, but his desire to fight seemed to be waning. His partner along with his lover watched over him adding their strength to his.

Josephina Nichovia Kuryakin loved this man; she had seen him taken but was unable to stop it. Exhaustion became too much as she fell asleep her head beside him on the bed holding his hand; even in sleep she wouldn’t abandon him.

Illya Nichovetch Kuryakin was angry with himself; he believed that he should have seen it sooner—his partner’s kidnapping, torture and now possible death. The details of the assignment ran through his mind as he tried to figure out how they could have handled it differently.

A Week Earlier

Once more Napoleon Solo UNCLE CEA and his partner and next in command Illya Nichovetch Kuryakin were sitting across the table from their boss, Alexander Waverly. They waited while he lit his pipe organizing the papers in front of him. Finally, he looked up acknowledging them.

“Gentlemen. I know you have been bored the last couple of weeks, but it seems that whatever Thrush is planning they’re keeping it a secret. Other than a few minor problems, they have been quiet; as we all know that usually means that they’re organizing something big.”

Both men knew that Waverly was correct. The quieter Thrush was, the more likely that they were about to launch a significant assault on someone or something.

“Today our agents, working from a tip, intercepted a message during a rendezvous between two Thrush agents,” he sent a piece of paper toward them.

The paper had Thrush code on it with the translation below the cipher. It gave a time and place, and the words: Section 2 Number 1 but nothing more.

“Where did this come from? I know that I’ve never seen this particular code before, sir” Napoleon asked as he passed the sheet of paper to his partner.

Illya studied not only the code but the paper itself, “Neither have I sir,” he said as he passed it back to Waverly.

“The message was being passed in the little park near 40th Street when our men intercepted it.”

“Does this stink like a trap to anyone else? The park is only a few blocks from headquarters, why would Thrush pass it there? It sounds very suspicious to me.”

“That’s smell like a trap, Illya.”

“What? Oh okay, I do not the like the looks of this. It’s almost as if someone wanted to make sure we intercepted the message.”

“I agree Mr. Kuryakin., any ideas Mr. Solo?”

Napoleon looked at each of men before him, “Well sir, it seems like this invitation has been directed to me if we are to take this reference to Section 2 Number 1 seriously, otherwise why would they use my designation on the communication.”

“I tend to agree Mr. Solo; however, we’ve no idea as to what they are planning and why at this point.”

“Do we have someone watching the park sir?”

“Yes, two agents are there taking pictures of all the coming and going. Well gentlemen, check out the park yourself, and see if you can come up with any connections to what they are planning. According to this note we have two days before the stated date and time. Keep me informed.”

As the two men stood to leave, he continued, “And Mr. Solo, do be careful. I don’t believe Mr. Kuryakin is anxious for a promotion quite yet,” he then started to examine another folder in front of him indicating their dismissal.

….

The young adults, a male and female, sat in the middle of a group of youths in the small neighborhood park strumming their guitars and singing requested songs. The male’s British accent blending with the female’s unidentifiable one entertained those spending the day in the sun.

The young woman was dressed in a flowered poncho top, bell bottom faded jeans with patches, sandals, and her waist long pale strawberry blonde hair held in place with a flowered head band. Her blue eyes were clear and smiling under her sunglasses that she would occasionally push back up.

The young man was dressed in tattered blue jeans also with patches on the knees, a white turtleneck covered with a leather vest lined with fringe, and wearing a worn green corduroy hat. He also wore sunglasses covering his green eyes which seemed to slide down his nose thereby needing to be pushed up frequently. Anyone looking at the others gathered would think the two were dressed in the uniform of the times.

Eyes scanning those passing by, the singers took pictures of all who were coming and going each time they pushed up their glasses. Mark Slate and Jo were the perfect choices for this assignment.

 Both were less known by the local Thrush agents so that a slight change in costume was all that was needed to fool those present. Only someone who they had personally faced would recognize them.

As the day went on, both noticed a number of UNCLE agents searching the park for further clues as to what Thrush was up to this time. When Napoleon and Illya entered, Mark poked his singing partner, “There are our mates.”

Smiling Jo acknowledged their presence by leading the way into My Guy by Mary Wells.

The partners leaned against the fence surround the park listening to the music while watching people entering and leaving the park. A few of those present were lower level Thrush operatives, after a few hours the partners walked around checking out areas that could conceal threats to UNCLE and its personnel.

It was then that they spotted a middle level Thrush agent who appeared to be avoiding someone. “Trap?” Illya suggested.

“We’ll never know if I don’t let them spring it,” Napoleon suggested and then followed the man.

….

The two top UNCLE agents had followed the man into the woods at the end of the park where the attack took place. A few of the group attacking them went after Napoleon, while the majority of the group assaulted Illya using pipes, bats, and other items to create the most damage possible. It seemed that every time the CEA could down his adversary another one would come after him, but at no time did the majority of combatants leave his partner.

Napoleon was able to pull out his communicator, yelling into it for help from Mark, who came running, heading right toward the group who had Illya pinned down on ground battering him continuously. With the three agents now in the fight, the group of Thrush agents left as quickly as possible.

“Tovarisch, open your eyes,” Napoleon ordered as he held his partner’s head in his lap.

“Go away, I am just going to lay here until I decide is I am alive or not.” Solo checked over his partner for broken bones or other injuries.

“Nothing is broken that I can feel or see, but you’ll have some good bruises tomorrow.”

“Then I will live?”

“I’m afraid so, come on let’s get you checked out back at headquarter,” he helped his partner up with some assistance from Mark. After the English agent left to help pack up his and Jo’s equipment, the two partners walked the block to the parking structure that was another entrance to UNCLE.

Medical personnel met them at the door to accompany a complaining Kuryakin to the infirmary. The CEA went to Waverly office to convey his oral report after dropping off the pictures taken by their agents in the park.

“Why Illya sir? They very specifically targeted him. They kept me just busy enough that I couldn’t help him but didn’t do any real damage. It was as if they were trying to put him out of commission.”

During the report, the injured agent was sitting in his customary seat, a headache threatening to rip off the top of his head, while the rest of his body wanted to defect from him, “They did seem very interested in damaging me more than Napoleon.”

“This isn’t the first time this has happened today. In three other major cities, our Section 2 Number 2 have been attacked. Unfortunately two are in the hospital, one didn’t make it: Section 1 will be teleconferencing later this evening to discuss our concerns. For the time being, both of you be careful. Mr. Kuryakin, seeing you are not staying in Medical, go home for the night.” The dismissal was clear, until Section 1 met later that evening; the next step was a waiting game.

….

Mark had taken the van back to UNCLE with their equipment when Jo had sensed the attack before it happened, turning to the confrontation, she was able to avoid the majority of the pipe. It was one of the policemen who she had seen earlier and identified him as a Thrush agent.

“I thought it was you, Kuryakin,” he said as he swung the weapon again.

She recognized him from a previous encounter, just as she jumped back out of his way, grabbing the end of it as it whisked pass. A yell from behind her brought more of the youth who had been listening to the music and soon police joined the disturbance.

A shot in the air stopped the fighting causing many of the young adults to take off before they could be cuffed; Jo, being in the center of the activity, was one of the unfortunate ones—cuffed she was taken to jail.

…..

When the phone rang, Illya had just laid down after a hot bath to help loosen the aching muscles from the fight. His side still was painful when he moved from the pipe that had connected with it.

“I need you to bail me out of jail,” on the other end of the line was his sister.

“Why are you in jail? Just show them you’re UNCLE card to be released,” he was tired, sore, and actually didn’t want to go out unless he really needed to.

“Mark has my ID, communicator, and gun; he was heading back with the van when all the trouble started. One of the policemen was Thrush, recognized me and started a small riot. I was arrested with about 10 other innocents. We need to get released; you are coming, right?”

About a half an hour later she heard, “Come on jailbird, your free to fly away.” Napoleon stood in front of the cell with a grin on his face.

“Do not say one word, Napoleon or you will be sorry. Where is my brother?”

“His UNCLE needed him immediately so he asked me to do the honors. After all I am your boss; he just kept me updated on the status of my agents.”

“ _Boss, vybolʹ v priklad, i eto ne smeshno. Kogda ya poluchu na nego ruki, ya istreblyu yee nakoleni_. (Boss, you are a pain in my butt, and this is not funny. When I get my hands on him, I will cut him off at the knees).”

“Remember my love, I do understand Russian. Just wish I had a camera with me; this would be an excellent addition to UNCLE’s rouge gallery.”

“ _Ryvok_ (jerk). Laugh all you want now, but remember payback is a bitch,” she said as she pushed past him.

“Drop me off at home,” was the only thing she said to him once they were on their way. As soon as she said that, Napoleon’s communication beeped.

“Mr. Solo report immediately to headquarters, I assume that Miss Kuryakin is out of jail and with you.”

“Yes, sir,” she responded giving her CEA a look that was meant to send grown men running, why was she surprised that Waverly already knew about her.

“I want both of you here within 10 minutes,” he said just before clicking off.

“ _Derʹmo_. I cannot go through the halls like this,” she complained.

“No one will even notice,” Napoleon assured her, words that came come back to haunt him as they walked through the halls toward Waverly office.

The unnormally clothed agent was met with grins and chuckles from personnel they passed as they traveled the halls who quickly turned away when her glance met the their eyes; Napoleon felt the daggers she was throwing into his back knowing that she would find a way to get even in the future.

Illya and Mark could see the anger in her eyes as she entered and were smart enough not to say anything but their grins couldn’t be hidden.

“Ah Mr. Solo, Miss Kuryakin,” looking up at them, “No time to change,” he asked glancing at her clothes.

“Sorry sir,” she said sliding into her seat trying to look as small as possible.

“Well, all right. The problem has expanded; all other headquarters where there are CEA have also received information with the same date and time on it. It seems gentlemen, Miss Kuryakin, our top enforcement agents are being threatened. Section 1 has therefore decided that all these men will be put under protective custody.”

“WHAT?” Napoleon shouted, “I can’t be efficient if I’m being protected, besides if I’m the target why did they so clearly go after Illya when we were in the park before instead of me.”

Chapter 2

“Mr. Solo. I believe my order is very clear. You’re to be placed under protective custody along with the other worldwide Section 2 chiefs until we figure out what Thrush’s intentions are. As far as the attack on Mr. Kuryakin and his counterparts around the world, Section 1 believes it was an effort to place our organization at a disadvantage if something were to happen to you.”

“Sir, I haven’t gotten this far by being pampered or pulled from the field every time someone make threats against me,” Napoleon carefully spoke each word.

“You have your orders Mr. Solo, abide by them, or spend time in a holding cell until we straighten this situation out.”

As the CEA surveyed the agents around the table, he noticed that none of them were looking him directly in his eye, but knew that they all could feel his frustration. Anger was coloring his thoughts, but he kept them to himself; he was expected to set an example for his agents, losing his temper wasn’t the way to do that.

“Yes sir,” he softly answered, his eyes facing the table in front of him pay no attention to the others in the room.

“If Thrush isn’t attempting to throw us off with the date and time on the message, we have one day to find out what they intend on doing before it happens. Section 1 believes that you’ll be relatively safe until that time; you’ll work with Mr. Slate, Miss and Mr. Kuryakin to attain an answer as to what they’re up too. No matter what you discover, you, Mr. Solo will report to headquarters two hours before the specified time—is that understood?”

“Yes sir,” was the response from all present.

Waverly watched his agents leave the room knowing that Solo was furious but would follow his orders. Something was going on, and although Section 1 had agreed to order the protective custody of the targeted agents, he knew that they were missing something. The time and date, what was it that seemed wrong?

…..

The four agents walked down the hall, not speaking until they reached Napoleon’s office. “Okay, ideas. I want this taken care of before it gets any further.”

“We are missing something, partner”

“And what would that be,” he turned angrily toward his friend, “Want to let me in on your observations,” after he snapped, he noticed how quiet everyone was. “Sorry, I don’t like being a sitting duck and not being able to do anything about it. Do you have any idea what we’re missing?”

“Sorry, just one of those feelings I sometimes get.  Something is not adding up.”

“Sitting in the office isn’t getting us anyplace; let’s go back over the area of the park. If we each take a corner and work inward, we could cover most of the area,” he started but stopped as of the other agents shaking their head no.

 “Fine. We’ll split into teams then, and take twice the time to search the area. Jo you’re with me on the south end of the park, Mark and Illya you take the north end. Before we leave, I’ll have research double check the buildings in the area for anything unusual.”

Mark poked Illya, “Surprise isn’t it. He gets the bird while we get each other.”

Napoleon smiled, “I’m still senior agent here.”

Jo gave each of the men glare before walking out leaving them in her wake.

The four agents walked together until they reached the park then separated, each team going to their assigned area.

“Jo you head that way, I’ll go this way.”

“No,” she tossed back at him, “One of us needs to be with you at all times.”

“I’m the CEA.”

“And I would rather you be angry at me than Waverly; he has a much better imagination when it comes to disciplinary action than you do.”

Heading toward the corner of the park, “Then come on. I DO NOT need someone to guard me, you know.”

Jo grinned at him, “I know but you will do it because Waverly ordered it.”

…..

The two groups looked over the ground, benches, tables, and even the swings. Nothing seemed out of place or came across were known Thrush agents.

The group met in the middle of the park at the same time Napoleon received a negative message from research. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts as they sat on the park benches deciding on what to do next.

“Date and time,” Illya repeated a number of times.

“What is it tovarisch?” Napoleon knew this was his partner’s way of thinking out a problem.

“Something with the date and time. Open Channel D please,” he said into his communicator.

“Yes, Mr. Kuryakin,” Waverly asked.

“Sir, did all the messages have the same time and date on them, sir?”

“That is correct, why?”

“If we are to protect our Section 2 chiefs why would they give us advance notice giving us extra time to protect each one of them? It makes no sense,” suddenly Illya had it. “Sir, what time is it in Tokyo,” the first city with a CEA after the International Date Line.

“It’s—Mr. Kuryakin get Mr. Solo out of there right now. Extra agents are on their way.”

“ _Chert vozmi_ ,” Jo said as she pulled her gun following the lead of her brother.

“Good guess, Mr. Kuryakin, but too late. Everyone drop your weapons,” a group of Thrush agents holding rifles on them soon joined the voice. “Mr. Solo, you’ll come with us.”

Napoleon stood still, “You have a choice; you can come with us willingly and your friends will just have a nice sleep, or you can come with us unwillingly and they’ll die.”

The CEA straightened his shirt cuff, smoothed out his jacket, and lifted his hand padding his hair into place before moving toward them, “Don’t,” the three other agents said.

“See you guys later, Illya your in charge until I return.” He handed Jo a small circle of black onyx stone, “Keep this for me,” then whispered, “I love you.” before he walked toward future.

A few second later, gas saturated the area, putting the remaining agents to sleep as Napoleon walked away with his captors.

….

The three agents woke up with an oxygen masks pumping air into their lungs. One fast look around told them that Napoleon was no longer in the park. Other agents were going over the park with a fine-tooth comb; each item found bagged, marked, and sent to the lab to be examined for clues even insects were sealed for further investigation.

Jo felt the stone he had handed her before they took him away; it was a piece from the statue she had given him after the Fears of the Heart Affair. He carried it around to remind himself of her when they were apart, why would he give it to her now. She felt her brother place his hands on her shoulder, “We will get him back, I promise you.”

When the three agents arrived back at headquarters, they were informed that two other CEA’s were killed outright while the other two were under guard at their headquarters after attempts on their life; Solo was the only one that they even attempted to capture alive.

“I do not understand, why did they want Napoleon alive when they attempted to or success in killing the other CEA’s,” Jo asked while pacing back and forth in Waverly’s office.

“Miss Kuryakin, please sit down. I believe that they wanted Mr. Solo for his knowledge of case that he was assigned to a last month.  Because it’s still open, he was not debriefed of the information he holds. Although this seems to be an elaborate setup to capture him alive, the information that he processes if released could be the cause of World War 3.”

“It is imperative we retrieve Mr. Solo before he talks if possible, but under no circumstances can he be allowed to tell them what he knows. You three will use the resources of UNCLE to put an end to this situation as soon as possible.”

The agents sitting at the table understood what Waverly was saying; he was ordering them to kill Napoleon if they were unable to rescue him. As they left the conference room, no one glanced at the ‘old man’ or spoke, each lost in his or her own thoughts.

 Illya led the other two to his empty office. Pulling out a bottle of vodka from his bottom draw, he poured each one of them a drink that they downed quickly to be replaced by another poured glass.

“We aren’t giving up on him; we’ll find him and bring him back alive, luv” it was Mark who spoke first putting his arm on Jo, “He left you in charge Illya, so what is our first move?”

“Jo you follow up on any traffic from the park, how did they get him out of there so quickly; we had the place closed down within five minutes, yet no one saw anything. Mark organize the information flow from our people, have them push their contacts,” Illya grabbed his coat as he finished his directions to them.

“Where will you be, guv?”

“Going over the park myself, inch by inch,” he said as he walked out the door.

…..

The next two days were spent in following up every lead possible no matter how insufficient. Little to no sleep plus meager meals led to fraying tempers and short fuses until Waverly finally ordered his men to spend the next 8 hours resting.

“There no time for this,” Jo was not in a mood to take a break.

Illya handed her a cup of tea, “Drink this; Waverly is right, without some rest no one is going to do Napoleon any good. Drink this!” he ordered her.

She downed it quickly giving him an indignant expression, “Are you happy now?” As the drug hit her system, she stood furiously, “How dare you?” was all she managed before passing out. The two men caught her laying her in bed.

“She’s not going to be pleased mate when she wakes up.”

As her brother covered her, he said, “Well I hope that her anger at the situation and Thrush will outweigh her anger at me. Come on, let’s get a few hours ourselves before we start going over everything again.”

…..

Waverly stopped in to check on his people; ordering rest and seeing it carried out was always two very different things. He knew these men and women would give 110% to find a missing agent; this time he hoped that they wouldn’t be too late. Silently he left the area, going to his office to get a few hours of sleep himself.

…..

The two pillows hit them at the same time, sending Mark and Illya toward their guns until they realized what had attacked them. “Get up you _predateli_ (traitors); you drugged me how dare you?”

“Talk to him, luv, I’m innocent.”

“Mark, the last time you were innocent, you were a babe in your mother’s arm. Why did you feel it was necessary to drug me?  I would have slept sooner or later,” looking at the two men for an answer.

Before either man could comply, the phone in the room rang, “We may have something, Mr. Kuryakin.” Illya grabbed his jacket running to the lab, followed closely by Mark and Jo. Arriving he was directed to the microscope where he came face to face with a fluorescent pink katydid.

Chapter 3

Napoleon knew that they had kept him drugged during the ride and for some time after arriving at their destination. He remembered questions, followed by a beating, when they didn’t get the answers they wanted it was followed by more drugs, questions, and beatings.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since the last round but was thankful for the interruption. When he looked over his surroundings he found that except for the thick chain that was connected to his ankle, the rest of his body was free of restraints for the time being. 

His accommodation was a predictable Thrush holding area- cold, damp, and empty except for a bucket for water and another bucket for waste.

As the door of the cell opened, he kept his eyes closed feigning unconsciousness, allowing him to eavesdrop on anything said, “We know that you’re conscious Mr. Solo, so let’s not play games,” a deep female voice addressed him, “I have brought you some supper.”

Napoleon opened his eyes taking in the woman before him. Sitting up, he scrutinized her, dark brown hair, deep brown eyes, velvety smooth complexion, all the curves and bumps in the right place and precise dimensions, and although her voice was deep, it had a sexy quality to it. “You seem to know me; may I ask who you are?”

“I am your hostess, Cheri Amoureux, and before you asked Mr. Solo, it is my real name. My parents had a wonderful sense of humor, don’t you think. I would suggest you eat something, as we do have a long day ahead of us.”

“So it’s supper time, I couldn’t be sure—you have no windows in your cells.  Can I ask what day it is?”

“Why Mr. Solo, you have been with us for two days now,” she informed him.

Although his stomach begged for the food in front of him, he wasn’t ready to trust it. “I don’t think so, but thank you anyway,” he said as pushed it back toward her, “Not hungry.”

“It’s not drugged,” she said smiling seductively, “We’ve have many more interesting ways to get you to talk than tampering with your food. Besides, you’ll need your strength for what’s to come,” with that she drew the fork though his eggs and potatoes placing some of them in her mouth, then took a large swallow of his juice. “Is there anything else you would like me to taste test for you?”

Napoleon pulled the tray back toward himself, “As long as you went through all this trouble. It was me, you were after all wasn’t it; the rest was all just fluff?”

She nodded in agreement.

“So what’s next?”

Cheri smiled as she turned to leave, “I would suggest you begin to answer the questions that we have for you. No one knows where you are; by the time they find us, if they ever do, you’ll be in no shape to be rescued unless you decide to cooperate.”

He finished his meal licking off each finger in a satisfying gesture, “Thank you for the meal, but I don’t think I want to play right now,” he laid back down on his bed turning his back to her.

She grabbed the tray starting toward the door, “That was your last meal, hope it was worth it,” opening the cell door, two men with rifles stood there while a doctor entered with two other men who held their prisoner down while he was injected with a colorful fluid.

….

“What does a fluorescent pink katydid have to do with Napoleon?” Mark asked after looking into the microscope, “I thought they were green.”

The tech explained. “Normally they are green; however, every year in Pennsylvania, a few of these pink one’s show up. This color change is caused by a genetically determined condition called erythrism. Usually it makes the newspaper, and brings visitors into the area where they were spotted.”

Jo asked feeling frustrated, “So it a Pennsylvania bug; what does this have to do with this case and finding Napoleon?”

“There was an article in the paper three days ago about pink katydids being found in Springfield Township, which is a suburb of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. It’s the only sighting of these specific katydids recently. So the question you should be asking is why a dead, fluorescent pink katydid would be found in the park near the area where they took our CEA?”

….

When Napoleon came to this time, he was chained spread eagle to ceiling and floor hooks clothed only his in shorts. Every time he moved a part of his body; he was wracked with nausea and dizziness, making him regret the food he had eaten earlier in the day.

When he heard the cell door open, he turned his head causing the nausea to rise again. He felt Cheri’s nails raking his bare skin causing a disproportionate amount of pain for what she was doing.  It must be the drug they had given him that was intensifying the pain from its normal level.

“Now my dear,” her rich deep voice began as if she were making love to him, “I need some answers only you can give.” She accented her question with increasing pressure from her nails.

“Where is the information you stole from our office in Bangkok? And how far are they in decoding it?”

Napoleon remained silent even as she dug her nails into his thigh, though the pain felt like knives slicing into his flesh. He thought about that assignment that had brought him to this interrogation. 

He had been assigned to investigate rumors that someone attempting to steal the Phra Phuttha Maha Suwan Patimakon in the temple of Wat Traimit, in Bangkok, Thailand.

The plot to steal the eleven thousand pound solid gold statue was prevented but in the process, Napoleon had found secret documents when searching Thrush’s offices in Bangkok that were crucial to world security. These documents were delivered by him to a secret location for decoding; he was planning to pick them up the following month, then deliver them to UNCLE to be added to File 40 for safekeeping.

He didn't know the content of the documents but his tormentors didn't seem to care. It was the location of the papers they were interested in and nothing more. If they were willing to torture him to get them, they must be more critical to world security than even UNCLE realized.

Cheri left the room as another member of the team entered pushing a cart of instruments meant to make a stubborn agent open up and speak. “Mr. Solo, my name is Kǎowèn, perhaps you have heard of me,” a small but deceptive man smiled at him.

Napoleon had; his name meant torturer in Chinese, which this man was known to lived up according to those who had been one of his guests before. One person the agent had rescued after a session with Kǎowèn was still on life support machines. This situation seemed to be getting worst by the moment. 

The injection he received this time was the same color as last time, so he expected his pain level to increase again.  His assumption was correct, just a touch of a hand against one of his newly received bruises caused severe pain.   When Napoleon didn’t speak, his questioner took a razor thin strap across his body; leaving his muffled groans echoing throughout the halls.

….

The three agents arrived at the Springfield Township Administration building early that evening, unfortunately, just after it closed; leaving them to decide what to do next. After checking in a bed and breakfast located ten minutes from downtown Springfield, they rechecked their current map of the area.

Located on the southeastern edge of eastern Pennsylvania's mountain system, the area had a great number of places in which to hide an UNCLE agent, between old mine shafts, abandoned houses, and caves. The search for Solo would be slow, and they feared their time was limited.

It had already been three days since he's been taken, so who knew how much more time Napoleon had left. They didn’t know what type of shape he would be in when they finally found him, but surely it wouldn’t be good.

Seeing his sister pace the floor, rubbing the piece of onyx that his partner had given to her, Illya worried, fearing that he might be wrong about where Napoleon was being held.  If he was, then he could be in part responsible for his friend's death as he was sure that was to be Solo's fate. If that were to happen, it would make his sister a widow before she was even a bride.

The pessimistic side of him was showing through once more, something his American friend constantly teased him about, but this time he hoped that he was just giving in to his natural Russian nature.

The bed and breakfast where they were staying was on top of a small foothill with the mountains framing the background. The grassy hills were scattered with trees and vegetation.

 “Where do we begin?” Jo asked looking out the window over the disingenuously peaceful area.

Mark wondered, “Hey mate, do we have a plan? Everything in this little berg seems to be closed up tighter than a drum tonight.”

“And that will stop us?” Illya said as he was pulling out his equipment, “We will do a little night exploration to check the old maps and records to see if there are some hiding places that might not be on our current maps.”

“We are basing this all on a pink bug, a cricket; Are you sure we are right?” Jo asked her brother.

“Do you doubt me? Is there some place else you feel we should be? Talk to me Josephina, what do you want to do?”

With a tear in her eye, “Bring him back to me, that all I ask.”

….

The pain was over the top. This time when Napoleon opened his eyes; he couldn’t move without causing excruciating agony in every muscle.

 “Mr. Solo nice to see you awake once more, hope you’re now ready to cooperate.” Kǎowèn stood in front of the agent, hitting a riding crop on his hand, “Or do we have to continue?”

Napoleon knew this was only the beginning, even if he wanted to he doubted that he could answer the man’s questions; his mouth was thoroughly dry, nausea was attempting to erupt into vomiting, while dizziness accompanied every movement; the wall behind him spattered with his blood.

Another injection, a different color liquid this time, and within minutes hallucinations began.  Soon it became hard to tell the difference between what was real and what was not. Images of his friends and enemies became jumbled; the pain from the beating blurred his vision making it unclear who was tormenting him now.

Napoleon's last conscious thought was his feeling that he needed  to keep something secret, but what it was, he wasn't sure.

…..

When he woke after the last round of questioning, he was being hosed down with cold water; his stomach had emptied itself in more than one way, and his pain was higher than ever before. “The location of the papers, Mr. Solo,” was all he heard through a hazed consciousness.

Instead of answering, he curled up in the fetal position trying to warm up and provide support to his aching stomach. He remembered the hallucinations, and the inability to determine what was true or not; however, he knew that he hadn’t given them the answers they wanted or they wouldn’t still be asking questions.

He heard them leaving the cell, turning off the light, locking the door, still with the chain around his leg holding him a prisoner in the darkness with pain and uncertainty his only company.

Chapter 4

The three agents, who were fully dressed in black with their various shades of blonde hair catching the light, sat handcuffed in the police station waiting for Waverly to secure their release through his connections.

They had been remiss in assuming that the small town hall would be a breeze to enter gathering the information that they needed. Instead of taking care to hide their light colored heads, they entered the building only to have it catch in the moonlight resulting in them being spotted by the patrolling sheriff.

After being transported to the police station, they had shown him their UNCLE ID. With the cold war perspective common among Americans, their Russian names caused him to question what they were actually doing the building.

With a nod of the head, Illya gave Mark the permission to share the details of their assignment with the local officer. The sheriff, Chad Champion, finally allowed Illya to use his communicator to contact Waverly who was extremely unhappy about the situation. He read them the riot act wanting to know how his three highly trained agents could be caught by a local sheriff suggesting that perhaps they all needed a refresher course on the island.

While waiting for Waverly to come through with their release, Illya and Mark were engaged in a pseudo-augment over their arrest until Jo snapped, “Zatknis (shut up). We have a cop mad at us, Waverly threatening us with retraining, Napoleon missing, and I am handcuffed for the second time this week by the police.” She had been trying to control her annoyance, but she was tired, hungry, and worried.

They smiled at her only to receive a cold glare in return. She then reached over, picked up a paperclip from the desk, undid her cuffs placing them on the desk. Laughing neither man felt it was a good idea to question her actions at this time.

Once their identifications were verified the chief returned to find the two men still grinning. The sheriff sat before them, arm crossed angrily. “You just come into a town ignoring the law. Didn’t any of you think about speaking to me directly before breaking into the offices?”

 

“Sir,” Illya began, “We did not want to endanger anyone in town so thought this might be the easiest way to handle it. Quite obviously we did not think this over as well as we should have,” trying to calm the man down.

Chad noticed the cuffs, “What the hell?” The innocent looking faces of the three people sitting before him didn’t fool him for a moment especially when he noticed that it was Jo’s cuffs that were missing as he released the two men.

“Are you going to fill me in, or am I going to run you out of town?”

Both Mark and Jo waited for Illya to fabricate one of his stories explaining their present that he was famous for. Instead, he explained their reason for being there leaving out only the few details that were classified. When he was finished, the chief looked them over, “You three think that you can find your friend when you couldn’t even break into an office without getting caught.”

“It’s not one of our better days,” Mark admitted.

Not entirely satisfied, he still agreed to help them.

The sheriff offered, “Okay, I have a list of all old houses in the area; part of our job is checking them out every three months or so for problems. How long ago do you think that these guys who have your friend came into the area?”

“We know that they were here at least a week, although to plan the kidnapping, it was probably more like a few weeks. They would need some place that is out of the way; large enough to serve as a holding area for a prisoner plus a place for their people sleep and eat. Can you offer any suggestions, sir?” Illya asked as he started to examine the map that the sheriff had spread out in front of them.

Rubbing his chin, Chad thought about it for a few minutes, “I think I might have an idea of where some houses like that are. We’re an old mining area, where many individuals built their houses over mine shafts because of our cold winters that way they could mine all year.”

He circled a large area in the mountains surrounding the town, “There are about 20 houses here that would fall within your requirements.”

“Is there a way to eliminate any of the properties, Napoleon doesn’t have much time---if he is still alive,” Jo added almost inaudibly. Mark touched her hand, his eyes giving her support.

“We last checked this area two months ago; nothing seemed out of place at that time.”

“When checking the houses, how do you do it? A drive by or personal inspection,” Illya asked.

“Mr. Kuryakin. We actually go into the building checking it out. Although they are empty, the owners usually want the cabins visibly check for damage. I have an idea; each cabin’s description is listed in this book here. Perhaps something will give you a clue as to whether it will meet your requirements or not.”

“One other question,” Mark asked, “Does any of the owners rent out their cabins?”

“That would also be listed in the book, but we also would’ve received notification if they’re rented out, we haven’t received any notice of rentals.”

….

The group spent the next few hours examining each dwelling’s specs, narrowing them down by characteristics until only nine remained. Each of the remaining cabins were then split up into two groups of four with the last one left to whoever arrived first.

Although the sheriff volunteered to have more of his men assist in checking out some of the houses, the UNCLE agents decided not to take the risk, as they were unsure if any of men were associated with Thrush.

Mark and Jo took four to do a visual search, while Chad and Illya would investigate the other four; the last one would be searched by whoever arrived first.

The town sat in a valley of the rolling Piedmont region containing the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains which bordered the search area. Trees covered most of the foothills with only a few structures visible from the township itself.

Each of the cabins in questions couldn't be seen from the road; therefore, it was necessary for the agents to leave their cars hidden in the woods near the road to approach the area unseen. At each house, the team of searchers pushed through the trees, over boulders, finally climbed to the ridge above the cabins.

After ensuring that no one was visible around the area, the team members would then enter the house searching it for any signs that someone was or had been there. Finding nothing at the first eight houses, both groups arrived at the final house at the same time.

Meeting up, Mark called their attention to a small group of fluoresce pink katydids that could be seen climbing a nearby tree. “Murphy’s law,” Mark commented pointing to tiny bugs, “If anything can go wrong, it will. It seems that the last house we are examining might be the correct one.”

….

The sheriff was the first to see movement from the house, “No one is supposed to be in there,” he whispered to Illya, pointing toward the man walking around it.

There was no doubt that this was a Thrush stronghold. The guard that had been spotted wore the classic blue jumpsuit with a white bird design shoulder patch and matching hat. His rifle had the red night scope on top of it.

“Open channel D please, priority scramble. “

“Yes Mr. Kuryakin,” Waverly always seemed to be available no matter what time a call came in.

“Sir, we found what we believe is the place they are holding Mr. Solo. We will need additional members of an extraction team to get him out.”

“Are you sure he’s there?”

“Sir, we are not sure, but this seems like the best bet as to where they are holding him.”

“All right, Mr. Kuryakin, additional agents will be flown in within an hour. Please remember, that if you’re unsuccessful, he must not be allowed to be retaken.”

After a moment of silence, Illya responded, “I understand sir. I will leave my communicator open to allow the team to locate us. The landing site is about a mile from here. Mark and the local police chief will be there to lead them in.”

The brother and sister UNCLE agents scouted the area while waiting for reinforcements. A small cave opening that they had told about was found while they were acquiring a visible layout of the area.

As they waited for the other to join them, Jo spoke finally, “Could you kill him if it came to that?”

“It will not come to that; we will get him out.”

“You did not answer my questions, could you kill Napoleon as ordered!” Jo demanded of him.

Illya thought about it; could he kill his partner as ordered. It was an order after all; he was use to obeying his orders without questioning them, but this one? He looked over at his sister, “It will not be necessary,” was all that he could say.

It was just a little over an hour when the other agents arrived with April in the lead. The team, dressed in black, faces covered with grease paint, waited for Illya’s orders.

After spreading on the blacking grease that he was offered, Illya divided the men into two groups with one larger than the other. The larger one that he’d be leading would attack using a frontal assault and included April and the sheriff. In the meantime, Jo, Mark and two other agents would go through the cave once the main group began their attack.

Each group signaled when they were in place, getting as close to the building as possible without being seen. After the last group was in place, Illya gave the order, “Set your watches for 0345, mark now. We go at 0350; remember people we do take prisoners. Use live rounds only if it becomes absolutely necessary.”

The sheriff looked questionably at him, “UNCLE policy, we only use live rounds if there is no other opinion. We normally carry live round in our guns, but when on an assignment such as this, we try to use sleep darts.”

As the clock clicked to 0350, the UNCLE strike force began their rescue of the New York CEA.

….

When Napoleon opened his eyes this time, he was bound with his arms connected to the ceiling chains once again. Looking around the room, he saw more needles filled with different colors fluids mixed in with other instruments of torture. Cheri sat in a chair before him, a small metal wand in her hands.

“Napoleon,” she purred touching him intentionally on a few of his bruises producing a hiss of pain through his teeth, “Your body won’t stand up to much more of this, just tell me what I want to know then we can end this quickly.”

He smiled at her through his swollen lips, “What is in those papers that are important enough to make Thrush so desperate to get their hands on them?”

“Are you telling me that Waverly doesn’t tell his agents anything about what they are delivering, yet you’re willing to die to keep this secret safe? I find it hard to believe that you would be so willing to give up your life without knowing why. Explain to me why you are remaining silent?”

Although the pain was clouding his thoughts, he laughed, “I guess I believe in truth, justice, and the UNCLE way,” he said remembering one of his favorite saying as a kid from Captain America.

Cheri who didn’t find his statement amusing, began to thrash his legs with the metal rod she was holding, “Where are the papers?” she demanded.’

Feeling a bone or two breaking, he clamped his mouth shut to prevent a scream from escaping. Cheri was replaced by his usual guards accompanying the doctor who proceeded to give him two injections—the doctor explained that one would increase pain while the other would mess with his mind.

Later after this round of interrogation was over, they lowered him onto the mattress; he knew this might be the end. He could feel the broken bones, and the internal injuries. His leg was fractured in two spots making it difficult for him to stand any longer.

There was no way for him to escape this trap, although he never doubted that UNCLE was searching for him, he believed that they won’t get there in time. Death would be his only escape; his only regret would be missing the few things that meant so much to him.

His relationship with Illya, Mark, and April was one of the most powerful but his love for Jo topped all his regrets. Closing his eyes once more, he hoped to avoid the pain that was building once more.

Chapter 5

Illya with a knit cap pulled snugly over his pale hair led his group down from the hilltop, darting the defenders guarding the entrance of the cabin. After entering the home, a fire fight between the two groups of agents forced the UNCLE team to take cover behind the furniture.

"Why do they get to use live rounds when we have to use darts?" April complained as she hid behind the same couch as Illya.

"We are the good guys remember but you are right, it does seem unfair," he conceded as he fired at one of the men who peeked out from his hiding place.

After the UNCLE team had successfully taken out all the Thrush guards on the main floor, the group dropped a knock out bomb down the stairs before they headed into the mineshaft below where they were met by another wave of guards. At least 15 Thrush sentries were spread out blocking their way to the cells. The two enemies groups were at a standstill trading shots infrequently with neither group able to gain the advantage.

….

After the two Thrush agents guarding the cave entrance were darts, the smaller group of UNCLE agents moved into the opening as soon as they heard the gunfire from the front of the cabin.

As they moved further into the cave, with only night vision goggles to see, their progress was treacherously slow. The trail was twisted offering many placed for their enemies to hide so to eliminate the chance of the whole team being ambushed, they spread out keeping a reasonable distance between the agents.

With Jo in the lead the group turned the final corner, she saw a guard outside one of the cells along the next section of wall, but as she began heading that way, she felt a gun in her back as someone said, "Drop the gun, then raise your hands. I had a feeling one of you would be coming in through the cave."

Slowly turning around, she smiled at the guard, catching him just as the dart from Mark's gun put him to sleep. The noise made by the falling man caused the guard at the cell to turn toward them, but he also was taken out by a dart. As they approached the door to what they hoped was the correct cell; Mark took the door key from the unconscious guard, opening it, allowing Jo to enter first.

She moved toward the cot holding Napoleon to find him curled up on the narrow mattress facing the dungeon entrance. Hearing his name softly escape from her lips, he glanced toward the shadows in the door but could only vaguely see who was standing there. He tugged the threadbare blanket tighter around his exhausted body, shifting to get a better view at who was entering.

Struggling to sit up, he couldn't achieve an upright position because of the spasms tearing through him. A raging fever, dry throat, rising nausea with the slightest movement, and continuous tremors through his weariness body caused him to give up any hope of rising at the moment.

Jo gently sat down on the cot, placing a cool hand against the face she loved, "We are here, _moya lyubovʹ_."

He gave her a tiny smile, "You're late," he mouthed as he laid his head on her lap, the movement sent pain screaming through him.

"Take the rest of your men to meet up with Illya. I will stay here to protect him," Jo said indicating Napoleon.

"What if they come back here?" Mark asked.

"Let them try," Jo said smiling as she replaced her darts with real bullets answering his question. "Lock the door so no one can get in unless it is one of you."

Although Mark was the senior agent between them, he knew that he would never get her to leave until the rescued agent was safely on his way to medical. "Okay, take care luv, we'll be back soon with the cavalry," with that the three men went to assist the rest of the UNCLE agents.

….

Mark's group was coming from the cell area when they ran into a group of Thrush but were able to take down the startled guards without a fight. As the small UNCLE group advanced, they could hear the sound of gunfire ahead of them. Uncapping his communicator Mark called to Illya, "We're coming up behind them, be ready."

The fire fight that followed was over quickly when the Thrush agents realized they were surrounded by the task force. As the UNCLE team rounded up the remaining enemies, it was discovered that both Cheri and Kǎowèn were missing; a thorough search of the area didn't unearth to where they had disappeared.

….

In the cell Napoleon had open his eyes again, staring at the face bending over his, "Jo?" he crocked out. He reached out to make sure what he was seeing was real. He brushed her hair off her face threading his fingers through its softness, stroking it gently as he slowly attempted to raise himself once more to kiss her but fell back to the cot.

Jo leaned over to meet Napoleon's pale lips, kissing him gently before she felt him go limp in her arms once more. His breathing became more rugged with his lips turning blue; she could hear a hissing from the hole in his side confirming that he had punctured a lung when he had made that last attempt to lift himself. She pressed her jacket against his side hoping to block the hole until help could arrive.

When they arrived at the cell, Mark unlocking the door letting April and Illya in; they immediately headed toward the CEA. On their way to the cell, he had attempted to warn them about their friend's condition, but both agents moaned as they saw him lying in Jo's arms. "Medical will be here in a moment," Illya assured her.

While the paramedics worked on stabilizing Napoleon, Illya and Mark planted explosives throughout the building. They arrived back at the cell meeting April and Jo as their friend was being removed to the helicopter.

…..

As he entered it, Napoleon opened his eyes to see them standing around the cabin just as the explosives went off. The resulting detonation knocked the four agents down, covering them with dirty and rocks from the area; the last thing he saw in his hallucinogenic state before becoming unconscious once more, was his friends being buried by the falling wreckage.

….

The successful surgery had taken hours, yet the outlook was poor even a week later, he wasn't improving.

Illya and Jo's silent vigil was interrupted by the doctor coming into the room with an update on Napoleon's condition. "I'm sorry. He seems to have given up," the doctor told them," Unless he fights, he won't make it."

As Illya and the doctor, tried to come up with a strategy to encourage the dying man to fight, Jo slipped from the room heading toward the chapel. Kneeing down she crossed herself in the Eastern Orthodox fashion, lowing her head, she began to pray for Napoleon's survival.

Before too long, she felt a light touch on her shoulder; turning she laid her head on the hand, "I came looking for you," Illya said as he sat down next to her, "Do you think this will help?" He didn't believe but knew his sister still held on to the faith of their babushka.

"I fear it is the only thing that will help him. Why will he not fight? I do not understand; he has never quit before." The two sat side by side; Jo saw her brother silently mouthing words.

"I thought you did not believe."

"A little guidance should never be turned away," he said then sat quietly thinking.

Suddenly, his face lit up, "What was the last thing that Napoleon saw before he passed out; do you remember?" he asked excitedly.

She thought about it for a minute, "Oh my God; he saw the group of us falling after the explosion buried by debris; he did not regain consciousness again before surgery. He must think that we are dead."

The two ran out of the chapel forcing other agents to move out of the way as they rushed toward medical. As they reached the area, they slowed glancing at the doctor as they entered the room.

"Dr. Towers, the last thing Napoleon saw was the group of us diving for the ground as explosions went off around us. He was high on medications when it happened; possibly he believed we are dead."

Thinking it over, the doctor said, "That is quite possibly the reason that he isn't fighting to live. Okay so how do we get across to him that you aren't dead?" The doctor with the other agents help prepared a plan to make the CEA aware that his friends were still living

….

April, Illya, Jo, and Mark took turns talking and reading to him. They held discussions within his hearing, discussed cases he knew about, talked about others in UNCLE that he knew but still he didn't respond.

What they didn't know was that he was only hearing incoherent mumblings which he believed were just hallucinations, causing him emotional turmoil leading to a desire to be with those he loved.

Although a foreign thought normally, giving up in the final grip of the medications that he had received while a prisoner seemed the perfect thing to do. He wasn't sure that he could live with the guilt that he was the cause of their deaths.

Nothing they were did was getting a response from him, "Nothing is working!" Frustration was showing in Mark's voice.

"There has to be a way," April said, "We just have to hit on the right method."

Illya's eyes watched Jo rubbing with the onyx piece that Napoleon had given it to her to hold for him. He turn toward Mark, "Have them turn off the camera in this room."

"Only the CEA or Waverly can do that," Mark reminded him.

"I am the acting CEA, give me the phone."

After the camera was disabled, her brother turned to her, "Jo, there is one way I know of to always get through to our sleeping beauty."

"You think a simple kiss will bring him around?" Jo questioned after he explained his idea.

"If it done correctly," Illya explained, "I think it will work."

She glanced at the others in the room then walked over Napoleon's bed sitting down on it, leaning down to reach his lips. She began to caress the smooth skin of his face with her finger, gently placing a tentative kiss on his lips. When she received no response, she extended it creating a since of urgency, demanding his response while she cradled his head in her hands.

Slowly she felt his lips softening, turning his face toward her, she lay beside him allowing him to recognize her scent, inhaling a whiff of fragrance, feeling her soft body pressing against his, and tasting her lips.

Using her tongue to lick his lips then ticking them, she attempted to slip it into his mouth. After a few moments he responded, opening his mouth slightly pulling her tongue into it. Her kiss was calling him back to the land of the living, beckoning him home to the woman he loved and who loved him.

When she removed her lips from his, she heard a faint whisper, "May I have some more, please?"

"Wrong story my sleeping beauty," she said, gently running her lips down his cheek, "Oliver wanted porridge not kisses. You were right Illya; the natural instinct is never lost. Give him a kiss, his eyes automatically open."

Napoleon managed an objectionable face before the doctor sent the agents out of the room so that he could reexamine his patient. When they were called back in, they found Napoleon with his eyes open, "No more stimulation for him right now," Towers warned glancing toward Jo.

….

Months later, Jo lay on warm blankets between Napoleon and Illya in the park where the affair had begun; each lost in their own thoughts. Napoleon had been released to go back on active duty a month before, Illya had finished Napoleon's original mission, and the three of them were off later that day to another faraway place to fight for UNCLE's values.

It was cold and damp in the park with the snow threatening to begin, but in the early morning hours of Nov. 17th, they were together once more to watch the return of a 33 years event, the Leonid meteor shower. Each agent thought about how their lives were similar to the meteor that they were watching. Individual yet connected.

After it all was over', the three agents stood arm interlinked walking toward their apartment building. They were like the meteors, just a twinkle in the fabric of time. Individually they were unprotected, likely to blink out without warning, but as a group they were a sight to behold. Their chosen profession offered them uncertainty and loneliness. However, like the Leonid shower, they were one. Together they gave each other the security and love they each craved. Each knew this love would carry them in the days to come no matter what the future brought.

 

 


End file.
